


Ripping out the weeds

by Elenahjane97



Category: game of thrones
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-09 01:27:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3231089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elenahjane97/pseuds/Elenahjane97
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommen has kidnapped Gendry, to get him back Arya must call upon old friends and family to help her save the bull boy. But how long can Arya deny her feelings for him, especially with a war on the horizon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first ever attempt at writing. please leave any comments if you liked it or saw any mistakes. much appreciated :)

His mother had once told him that ruling was like lying on a bed of weeds, ripping out any threat one by one before they could strangle you in your sleep. That when you played the Game of Thrones, you win or you die. He had never truly understood what that meant, not really fully understanding the concept the way his mother had. Arya Stark had understood this. Arya Stark had killed his mother, slit her throat whilst she slept. She was ruthless, a force not to be trifled with.

  
Only as he stared Arya Stark, Lady of Bravoos, in the eye as she fumed over a bastard blacksmith, did the realisation hit him with such clarity and force he felt physically lightheaded. Tommen had heard whispers about Arya's companion, by chance he had stumbled across the boy when he needed his armor pairing. A short conversation with him and a decision was made. He had grabbed the blacksmith as soon as he heard what he meant to her.

She and the other Bravvosi; the one that could change his appearance like other men change their clothes had killed numerous members of his family, slowly killing them one by one, starting with his older brother Joffrey and then finishing with his uncle Jaimie. He had needed a way to stop them, so when he heard of the blacksmith, he knew what to do; take the blacksmith which would almost indefinitely get her attention and make a deal with her, the bastards life, for his own. He would have more luck in making a deal with the devil.

Even though she no longer lived in her palace or took part in any royal activities, Arya was still royalty, and loving a blacksmith is a scandal in its self. She could lose her title, and that meant that she was one less threat to him. It was as if the Gods were favouring him today. Like a good game of chess, the small intricacies were what mattered. He had something she wanted, but she had nothing to bargain with other than threats against a well-guarded kingdom.

"You have nothing, Lady Stark." Her eyes narrowed, he could recall her always hating her official title as a child. The gold and bone circlet atop of her head shifted. She said nothing, face remaining still and emotionless. She stood in front of him in the great hall as he sat upon the throne with a blade in his hand, although he had made no attempt to use it against her.

"Why this blacksmith? What's so special about Gendry Waters, hm?" He stopped himself, fearing what she would do to him and then, with a smugness his older brother would have been proud of, he continued, "You’re in love with him.”

Still she didn’t reply, she only watched him, anticipating any attacks from the usurper. She laughed but there was no humour behind it, it was a bitter, cruel laugh, one that sent shivers down Tommen’s spine. That laugh held the promise of pain and torture. He did not wish ill on Arya, she had always been kind to him as a boy. But with a thousand men behind him and only one behind her, he could not afford to show weakness or favour to his people. Arya Stark was a weed, and he needed to rip her out before she slowly killed him.

"Why do you want him?" She asked. Her voice was different, changed, it possessed nothing of the seven kingdoms. She was foreign; a direwolf no longer. A noble no longer.

"Why do you want him?" He parroted. She rolled her eyes, but not even she; a trained killer could hide the look in her eyes. She cared for the bastard, even if she did not know it herself.

"Return him." She said lowly, almost sounding like a growl, she may claim to no longer be a Stark however she was still a direwolf and he knew that her bite was worse than her bark. To him she was a foreigner, his enemy, one that he must be aware of. A dangerous look came into her eyes and, despite himself, Tommen couldn't help but be afraid. If looks could kill. That look told him that she could kill him in a second, and in the most painful way possible.

Gathering every ounce of Lannister courage he possibly could and with more strength in his voice than he expected, he said clearly, "No." The word echoed around the room for a few moments. Arya's face shifted then, a dark cloud passed over her face, and she looked almost possessed. Fury and seething anger morphed her features, she was beautiful, but in the way a mermaid was beautiful as it dragged to down into the watery depths of the ocean.

"I will hurt you for this. A day will come when you think you are safe and happy and your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth, and you will know the debt has been paid. Winter is coming, Lannister, get ready for a war."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter this time, leave me some comments so i know what you all think of it

"Is this it then?" Tommen asked. His sword clattered noisily against the cold ground as his arm faltered; they had been fighting, but he was no match for her Bravvosi training, graceful steps and silent movements, the wolf bitch didn't even break out into a sweat. Arya smirked and twined her hands under her chin, licking her lips slowly as she did so often like a direwolf waiting for its meal.

  
“Not today.” She whispered, with a wolfish glint in her eye. She would not promise him death until she knew Gendry was safe. She then stood up, and he could have sworn she floated towards him, stopping so close he could smell her skin: woods, trees and freedom.

They had been fighting in the Great Hall, it quickly becoming their usual meeting point. He had heard of his sisters’ disappearance, and knew instantly who took her. After the first time Arya Stark visited he had moved his sister, Myrcella to a small secluded house in the mountains surrounded by guards. Two days later all guards butchered and Myrcella's room empty he panicked. After spending hours searching the woods for his sister to no avail he had returned to the castle to discover Arya Stark sat on his throne. Without even thinking he moved to attack, however he discovered the better fighter.

She was a wolf, every essence of the word, from the graceful movements to the deadly glint in her eye. Slowly she leaned in close enough to whisper into his ear.  
"However, you have do something of mine that I would like returned." Tommen had a brief moment of panic, but then quickly realised that if she wanted something from him then he was safe, for now.

"And if I refuse?" He asked terrified, summoning the courage of a lion to speak but still not quite brave enough to look her directly in the eye, fearing what he would see there. Arya chuckled gently; it was an odd sound to hear from her because nothing about this woman was gentle.

"I am not above storming the gates, Tommen. I. Want. Him. Back. You have two days. Meet me at the Blood River, alone. I will bring your sister if you bring me Gendry. Our little game of chess is quite fun. I have made my move, now it's your turn." And after pressing a light kiss upon the kings cheek, she breezed out of the throne room, leaving nothing but a darkness heavier than night itself.

Tommen stood, frozen to the spot for a good ten minutes before the fear finally passed and the panic set in. Slowly he sunk to his knees. "I do not want to be king. I do not want to be king." he repeated over and over again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So far the chapters have been very short, i have tried to make them longer, please let me know what you think, i would love to know, please tell me if you see any mistakes :)

Water flowed over the rocks. Sunlight seeping through the trees and the leaves. Silence descended across the forest. Arya Stark sat beside the blood river, famously named after Robert Baratheon's Rebellion. Soldiers would come to the river to clean themselves, their armour, weapons and and horses. The amount of blood in the river turned all the water bright red for days.

"Hes not coming." Arya turned to the faceless man sat next to her. Myrcella slumped in between them. It was the first thing Myrcella has said in hours.

"I know. I wanted to see if he was smart or a coward. I guess this means hes both." Arya replied. She looked down to the ground. Green blades of grass reflecting with the sunlight. The urge to give up was so strong. Looking at Jaqen a new found sense of strength surged. Slowly she rose from the ground.

"I think its time for a different approach. Perhaps its time for you to reclaim your title." Arya knew instantly knew what Jaqen wanted her to do. Her family was planning a coup. She had turned down the invitation to join. Maybe it was time to reconsider, even if it is for her own gain.

 

__________________________________________________________________________________________

 

They came from the far reaches of what seemed like the world. Arya had risen a great force of Bravvosi warriors who called themselves the Faceless Men. They had ranged from big hulking brutes with heavy hands and thick spears, to thin gaunt men with harsh noses and cold eyes; each was as capable as the last in a surprising range of skills. They were terrifying to behold, and even more so with Arya at the front. She did not ride on a horse or in a carriage, she was their equal - she walked on her own two feet, the same as her men, with a crown of teeth and bones melded together in gold. She had no mercy in battle, save for the few moments after the fighting had finished and she whispered a prayer to the god of death.

Bran had, as the lord and master of Winterfell, redeemed the old oaths and conjured an army of a hundred thousand strong while they were nearly ten times the size of Arya's entourage, they were only half as lethal. Farmers, ferriers, stable boys: all had answered the call from Winterfell. Every stronghold in the North of Westeros, right up to the Wall, had answered Bran and given as many as they could.

Rickon helmed the smallest host, but they were rough, raw and needy. A thousand wildlings, each as smart and craven as the last. They held no allegiance to the fleet, and Rickon, wise as he was, never let anyone - especially Bran, who was a strong tactician in the art of war but comfortable in his position of Winterfell - believe otherwise. Rickon has asked them to join him of their own free will and never treated them as a commander or leader. They were his friends and allies, not his soldiers.

Sansa rallied the Riverlands in the name of Tully. And they answered. It was that simple. They revered her, loved her dearly and bowed and kissed when she came though the camps. They adored her, called her "your grace" as if the throne had already been won.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

  
They stood, staring, together for the first time in what felt like centuries. Regret tickled in the back of Sansa's mind but only briefly. She was determined to continue with this. They would not back down now. She would not back down. Too much planning had gone into this to give up so soon. She was shocked with the amount of support she had received. It had spurred her on even more. Her house sigil may be a direwolf but she had the heart of a lion. A lion heart.

Sansa remembered very clearly the last time she had seen Bran, what felt like a thousand years ago. He had been sleeping still, his fall fresh, and she hadn't had the heart to kiss him goodbye. She'd squeezed his hand and whispered her love, then escaped before Arya could see her cry. But he was different now, colder. He was not the curious, exited little brother he had been, but a dark man, with heavy eyes and bad habits. A dark heart.

Rickon was as strange as ever, but there was wisdom and knowledge in his eyes. He looked through Sansa, through the steel exterior she surrounded herself with, looked deep into her heart. It made her shiver; every secret she ever had was plunged by his gaze, every depth fathomed. She might as well have confessed every sin she ever committed right there to him, the way he looked at her. He was strong, wise and wild. A wild heart.

And Arya? She kept her hands tightly at her sides, her face a mask of indifference, so much so that Sansa could have sworn she was as likely to kill them as to kiss them. The women who stood before her had a presence that was darker than Bran's who was more evil and cunning than a villain, and the same wild nature as Rickon but with more control. But it ran much deeper. For the last few years no one knew where Arya had been, only heard the stories whispered about the camp. The tales were that she had been trained as an assassin by the highest order. That she had become blind then a miracle happened over night; her eye sight had returned. She had also heard the stories of Tommen’s sister, how Arya had single handedly kidnapped the kings’ sister, from her well-guarded home. There were whispers that the king had agreed to meet Arya at the Blood River, only Tommen did not make the meet.

Of course these were just stories. However Sansa didn't have the guts to even ask about her time away, not wanting to offend her and lose her support in her pursuit of the crown. The crown which now rested upon a usurpers head.

Sansa had sent letters to her brothers and sister, asking them for their help to take the throne, to make the seven kingdoms theirs.

But Sansa knew that Arya was only here for her personal reasons, trivial games for the throne didn't tease her in the slightest. Someone was taken from her, Sansa had also heard the rumours of the bastard Blacksmith, the one that Arya had cared for, and possible may have even loved once. However there was no love in her eyes, no happiness or joy in her smile and no gentleness in her touch. From her tone, she spoke with a voice of one who knew her own mind; moved in such a way that every action seemed premeditated and rehearsed over and over again.

There was something in her step, grace and an eerie stillness in her presence, which set Sansa's teeth on edge. The only other time she remembered feeling this way was when she was alone with the Hound. Fear, ran through her veins but it was so much more than that: affection.

Arya was her sister after all, but if Sansa was a lionheart, Bran a darkheart, and Rickon a wildheart, it seemed that Arya had no heart at all. She simply was and was nothing.

Maybe that is why she was here, to get her heart back from the bull boy. The one she claimed not to care for at all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you if you're still following this story. leave comments and thoughts down in the comment section.

At dawn, the Stark siblings marched upon Storms End, killing, or taking captive all who stood in their way. When they reached the castle, Tommen's army rushed out to greet them. During the main battle, Arya had slipped away and wormed her way into the castle through a back door. She found the hallways empty as she made her way to the great hall. Sticking to the shadows until she was certain the hall was clear she sat upon the throne, hopefully for the last time and waited for the pretend king.

Livid, Tommen stalked through the oversized double doors into the great hall, ten of his best men behind him. On the huge circular marble throne, half melted by dragon fire from so many years ago sat Arya Stark. She looked utterly unimpressed with her surroundings, a claim only few could make.

She spun the golden crown around in her hand; his crown, it was a mystery to him how she found the crown, when he left it in his private chambers, tucked away where only he knew where. She placed the crown upon her head and scrunched her nose up, clearly not liking the power that comes with the crown. He couldn't help but notice her sword around in her delicate waist, the slim, razor sharp sword shimmered like diamonds in the sunlight. Tommen had a feeling that her sword had tasted many men's blood, including his own men's.

"What in seven hells do you think you're playing at?" He asked immediately. With an air of one explaining something trivial to a child, she shrugged and crossed her legs, placing a finger on her chin.

With great amusement and a wicked smile, she asked, "Miss me? Because I missed you, you didn't come to the Blood River. Your poor sister was disappointed that you didn't show."

"Why do you care for the boy? That is all I wish to know." He felt guilty knowing that his sister was still in captivity, he couldn't go to the meet point because he didn't trust Arya Stark, and no man should. It was better for him to face her in his own territory than out in the woods, next to a river, where he could have been ambushed.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," She replied, her face innocent and proclaiming no devil. Someone sniggered behind him. His hand twitched, itching to go to his sword but he refrained; the Bravvosi were legendary for their speed and right now Tommen felt like killing not dying. The wolf bitch had stormed his home, killed his guards and now was sat on his throne wearing his crown. He had fought her once but she had let him live, he would not show her the same kindness.

"How dare you attack Storms End!" He cried, his indignation rising. At his side the scabbard felt heavier and heavier, seducing him, calling him to draw his blade and run the wolf bitch through.

"Oh, but I did warn you, Tommen and you didn't listen to me, I thought we were playing a game of chess; you take something of mine, and I take something of yours - isn't that how it works?" She removed the crown from her head, and threw it behind her, the hall was eerie quiet as the loud clatter of the crown hitting the cold stone floor echoed around the room. No one moved for a few minutes, both waiting to see each other's movements.

  
“I am tired of your games, Arya.” Suddenly Tommen felt very tired, he was not made to be a king. He was forced. With the grace of a dire wolf, Arya Stark stood from his throne and stepped towards him once again, there was a pattern emerging. His well trusted men tensed, just itching for a fight, hoping to kill the bitch once and for all.

"I told you to bring him to me, I warned you this would happen, and you thought your little palace was safe; well-guarded. They thought that at your sister’s house too, but I know you too well, Tommen. You cannot hide him forever, I will find him, and when I do, you won't see your sister again."

Tommen stepped into Arya's personal space, waves of anger poured of him. Arya's eyes sparkled, challenging him to fight her, to see who would really win in a fight.

"Give me my sister!" He shouted in her face, he could not contain his anger any longer, his sister had been gone for too long and this game they were playing was growing tedious.

"You know what I want, young lion. Bring him to me and I swear by Death you will get your sister back today." Tommen knew that he couldn't trust her, not single word, however this was his sister, his only living family. He would protect her, even if that meant giving up the only leverage he had left. He turned to one of the guards.

"Get the bastard." He said, defeated. Protests soon erupted from his men. "I said do it!" His patience running thin. Arya looked pleased. She reached into her pockets and pulled out a small silver whistle. She blew on it three times. Somewhere from outside, in the main battle, a higher pitched whistle replied four times.

"Your sister is on her way, I did say that I would keep my word." She turned around and sat down upon the throne once again, waiting patiently. Something told Tommen that this exchange wouldn't go as smoothly as it sounded.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------  
Scuffles and shouts of protest echoed from down the corridor outside the great hall. Arya's heart thumped loudly in her chest. She tried to mask her anticipation, slowing down her breathing. She did all of this for Gendry, she joined up with her brothers and sister, under false pretenses, she gave her sister her army but Arya had more pressing matters, the fighting did not interest her. She had slipped in through the back room in the great hall, patiently waiting, because she knew Tommen would soon arrive, he may be smart but he was a coward. Cowards are dangerous people because they want to live, and will trample on anyone to survive. So when the war had begun Arya knew he would hide, self preservation takes over. 

A loud shout and the sound of a fist hitting flesh came from outside. The doors slowly pushed open.

Two guards walked in dragging a slumped heap of clothes through the doors, a third guard that had opened the door was holding his nose as blood gushed from it. Although Arya was not close she could see that Gendry too was injured, a bloody lip, blackened eyes; from either exhausted or blows Arya did not know. His once fitted shirt now baggy and loose. They had starved him.

The guards threw Gendry to the floor, where he landed with a thump. Arya rose from the throne, putting power and elegance into her movements. The back room doors opened, without turning around she knew it was Jaqen. Arya had called him for this favour, to help her take Myrcella and guard her, Arya would not have been able to get Myrcella for she was not as skilled as Jaqen. Although Jaqen had no reason to, he promised to teach Arya everything he knew after she got Gendry back. The offer confused and excited Arya. The offer far too tempting to pass up. The deal was she had to take a life, then he would help her.

Looking at Gendry slumped on the floor, she knew asking Jaqen for his help was the right thing to do. fury burned through her veins. a red veil was descending over her eyes, there would be nothing to stop her from exacting her revenge.


	5. Chapter 5

Just a few days ago they sat together on the ledge of a building that overlooked a small garden. His leg brushed hers and his arm held onto her waist to keep her from falling over the edge. He leaned close to her ear.

  
"Him," he whispered. She looked at the man that he had pointed out. Her target was rounded, his stomach protruded well over his breeches, his dark hair was cut short, he had a wide smile, and his beard was covered with the crumbs of the food he was eating. She wondered what he had done to deserve to die, however a sharp tug on her hair stopped her thoughts in their tracks. She turned to face Jaqen with a furious look.

"You forget, sweet girl, judgement is not ours to pass." He said firmly, keeping his voice low.

  
She wanted to argue that she never forgot, that she simply chose to pass judgement because she felt that it was her right. But judgement was not her right, it was the right of someone like Arya Stark and she was not Arya. She was no one. And so was he.

He gave her a slight push, urging her on, and she climbed down the building by hanging from the ledge and dropping to the ground, landing as gracefully as always. Slowly, but with ever watchful eyes, she crept over to her target. When he turned away to watch a serving girl with lust upon his face, she pulled a vial filled with deadly poison that she always kept on her, from her sleeve and spilled the liquid it contained into his drink.

She was safely away when his hands began to clutch franticly at his throat and his face turned blue. His blunt nails scratched at his throat as he tried to claw away phantom hands that denied him air.

  
I must be stronger than them, she thought to herself, I must be better than them all. For if a young girl could kill a grown man, so easily, others could just as easily kill her. With a final gasping breath the man fell onto his food causing a great crash and calling the attention of those around. She turned to look at the ledge of the building to see Jaqen smiling down at her. He nodded his head towards her. The deal had been made. The death of any man Jaqen wished in exchange for his help.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

When Arya saw Gendry a part of her wanted to run to him, another part of her wanted to kill the men that were responsible for hurting him. However she knew she must remain calm. Jaqen walked with Myrcella, she was snivelling, tears streaming down her face. Tommen did not hide his relief as she approached him. He held out his hand and Myrcella clutched it, collapsing into Tommen's arms.

Jaqen reached down to Gendry, whispering words that none but a mouse could hear. Slowly Gendry picked himself of the floor. He straightened, looked unsteady for a moment but them quickly steadied himself.

With a slight limp, Gendry approached Arya. Since the guards had brought him into the room he did not look her in the eyes once. He still didn't. This wasn't Gendry. This wasn't her bull headed boy. This was a broken boy, damaged beyond Arya's repair.

She turned to Tommen, whos arms where now empty as a nurse came and took Myrcella away. Arya confidently strode over to Tommen, his guards quickly became alert. When Arya reached him, she leaned into his face.

"If you ever take something that doesn't belong to you again, I will skin you, I will burn your house down, I will inflict such pain upon you, you will beg me for death!" She shouted in his face, Tommen flinched at her threats for he knew that they were not empty threats but heartfelt promises.

  
“Just be lucky that he is alive, after what you have done to my family, this is a mercy, be glad it’s only cuts and bruises and not a slit throat or a missing limb.” Shaking with seething rage, Arya hit the so-called king. Tommen collapsed to the floor, clutching his face. Her nails had left deep tracks down his face, matching his sisters’ tears, only the king was crying blood.

"Stop." A voice called, a voice so weak and fragile, it stilled Arya fist from delivering another blow. The cry came from the king, only it was not directed at Arya. The king held his hand out to his guards, stopping them from attacking. Arya looked up to see Tommen's guards with swords ready. Confused by the kings’ actions, Arya leaned down to him. She whispered gently into his ear, her voice a sweet sickly poison.

"I hope you lose everything, and live long enough to see it fall. My sisters army is outside your door, little king, you should prepare for battle." She touched the kings’ cheek, just below the deep bloody groves. "Those will leave a nasty scar, every time you see them, think of me."

  
Arya stood up and with Jaqen and Gendry behind her, they left the injured king, and the vast army that was knocking on his door.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> possibly the longest chapter i have written so far. Let me know what you think in the comments down below

They arrived at a small abandoned cottage in the middle of the forest near Fawnton, having been on the road for over a week, the three of them were in need of rest. It had rained all week and Gendry, Arya and Jaqen were soaked, they had only stopped to sleep, not knowing if the king would be searching for them.

They hid the horses in the stable around the back of the run down shack, protected from the rain. Jaqen and Gendry went inside the cottage to see what it looked like on the inside. Arya stayed outside and tended to the horses.

Gendry had not spoken a word to Arya, only to Jaqen, even then it was only two words "I'm fine." Arya did not know what had happened to him, and she was too afraid to ask, too afraid of the terrors that Tommen's men had committed. He had a distant look in his eye. It felt like in only a few weeks Gendry had aged tremendously, the horrors had aged him, slowly chipping away at his soul. After her first meeting with Tommen her impatience grew, making her irritated and volatile. Jaqen knew she was worried about Gendry but from the way Arya had acted, he believe that she cared more for the bull boy that she realised.

Arya thought back to Tommen, when he took Gendry she did everything in her power to get him back. They were staying in a large house, Arya had managed to get a job as a maid, and the family that owned the house had needed a blacksmith, so Gendry worked for them. The family was good to them, better than many others they had worked for. Jeyne and Robin, no children. Just nice people.

Ever since her father died she had been on the run with Gendry. At first it started out with Arya, Gendry and Hotpie with Lommy. However along the road Hotpie had managed to get work as a baker, although he was not a good one and decided to stay. Gold cloaks attacked the camp a few weeks later and in the madness, Lommy was killed. Leaving Arya and Gendry alone again. They didnt mind, they had grown used to each others company, comfortable even.

Whilst Arya was cleaning the rooms Gendry came up to see her. Shutting the door behind him, he walked over to the bed that Arya had just made and flopped down face first onto it.

“What are you doing?” She exclaimed, “I have just made that.” She tried to roll him of the bed, but it was no use, he weighed too much. “Move, if Jeyne comes in and finds you here, I’ll be the one in trouble, I’ve already missed one supper because of you. I won’t miss another.”

“Mm pdifed” He said, muffled by the bed sheets.

“What was that?” Arya asked, now trying to drag him of the bed before someone entered and shouted at them for the second time with week for not working. Gendry had a habit of wandering of when he grew bored or tired. Gendry rolled over on the bed so that he was facing the ceiling, dark circles under his eyes stood out on his pale face.

“I’m tired, I’ve been working since dawn, I don’t know what they need all those swords for, it’s like they are expecting a war.” Gendry reached over and pulled Arya down on to the bed with him. She struggled only little but then relaxed, she too was tired. Nightmares kept them both awake.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” Arya asked, she tilted her head to look out of the open window, watching the rain fall as it did every day. The patter of raindrops on the roof was soothing.

“I managed to sleep a little, you didn’t though, I heard you, crying out. The nightmares are getting worse aren’t they?” He looked at her. Saw the expression on her face and knew it was true. She would occasionally scream out her brother’s name, sobbing into her pillow. Throughout the day she busied herself, occupying her mind, but through the night, he saw the real her. Fragile, broken. Even after all that she had been through, Arya was still a young girl.

“I can still see my fathers face, right before Ser Ilyn Payne swung the sword. He looked at me. The panic on his face. He tried to hide it but he was scared. Yoren hid me from seeing it. It doesn’t matter. He’s dead. So is Robb, my mother and even Jon. I miss Jon, I would give anything to see him again.” Gendry didn’t want to say anything, afraid he would say the wrong thing, and she would shut down, close off.

“I still say their names, every night before I go to sleep. Obviously there are some names that are no longer needed to be said. Joffrey. Dead. Cersei. Dead. Jamie. Dead. Tywin. Dead. I didn’t like him, but I respected him, he did what he had to for his family, maybe if they didn’t see it. He was wise, he knew things about the world that I couldn’t even begin to imagine. Jaqen said he was a threat. That it had to be me that killed him. You know, he wasn’t even scared, he just accepted it. He remembered me. I served him food and wine every day for two weeks at Harrenhall. He met with hundreds of people every day and yet he still remembered my face.” Arya closed her eyes, Gendry couldn’t even begin to imagine what she saw there, maybe she saw Tywin, the moment she killed him, maybe she saw her family, their laughing faces.

At every turn Arya surprised him. She was like a puzzle, day by day he discovered things about her. Like he knew she hated dresses, she would moan and moan about them, telling him tales of when her mother would force her into them. He knew she loved eating, Gods could she eat.  She loved the rain, she would stand out in it for hours, just standing and breathing. It was as if the pouring of the rain would wash away her pain, sins and bad memories. 

“You are so strong.” Gendry proclaimed. “After everything you have been through you still keep going. You surprise me, Arya Stark.” She turned and looked at him. A ghost of a smile rested upon her lips.

“We have both been through a lot. It doesn't make me any better than you, bull boy." She stopped to look at him for a moment. He provided so much strength for her. He was the only thing that was constant in her life. Always there, always teasing or being stupid. Arya was glad she had him in her life, if they could call it that.

"Look I need to finish cleaning up, when I’m done, I’ll come and find you.” Slowly Arya sat up and continued with her work. Footsteps down the hall startled Gendry. With a start he sat up and tidied the bed back up. Jeyne walked in and took in the scene before her.

“I didn’t know you were a maid, Gendry.” Arya chuckled slightly, whilst Gendry stood there stammering. “Robin would like to see you outside.” Jeyne smiled at Gendry, it was a warm smile, no anger just a genuine smile.

“I’m sorry, I just… I’ll go.” With that he walked out. Arya laughed, amused by his embarrassment.

“You two okay?” Jeyne walked over and sat on the bed, Arya sighed on the inside.

“Yeah, sorry for that, it won’t happen again.” Jeyne gave her a knowing look. She busied herself with tidying the dresser.

“Oh, its fine, as long as the work gets done it doesn’t bother me. You seem shocked. I’m guessing you haven’t seen a lot of kindness in your life.” Stopping what she was doing, Arya turned and looked at her. Jeyne was older than what Sansa is but younger than what her mother was. She was like a young aunt.

“Actually I have, well the first years of my life I have. Over the past few years, I guess I have seen the real side to people. The darker, twisted side.”Arya looked down at the ground.

Shouting down stairs interrupted the conversation. Arya ran down stairs to see what had happened, Jeyne following quickly behind. By the time she had gotten to the front door, Gendry had gone. Robin was unconscious on the floor. All that was left was a note. Stating that the king had arrested Gendry. That was it. No explanation. Nothing. One minute they were laughing, the next nothing. A cold shadow passed over the large house.

 

Deep in her thoughts, Arya didn't hear the footsteps until they were behind her. As she spun around she pulled her blade from her scabbard and pointed it at Jaqen.

"Are you mad?" She exclaimed. As she lowered her blade she looked at Jaqen, truly looked at him. He looked ragged. After they had escaped the castle they had to fight their way out of Storms End. With her sisters’ army surrounding the castle, and her brothers’ army cutting off all access to the sea, the city was in uproar, panic stricken people ran everywhere, looting shops and murdering any that stood in their way. So they had to do the same, killing only those who attacked them, they ran away from the battle and into the safety of the forest.

"The cottage is dry, safe to sleep in tonight. Tomorrow we will travel to Kings Landing.” Arya looked at him in disbelief.

“Again I will ask, are you mad! Kings landing is the place we are trying to avoid.” Jaqen simply shook his head.

“All their attention will be diverted to Storms End. There will be less guards. They will be distracted.”

“Maybe a week ago! The battle could have been won or lost, we do not know.”

“Silly girl, battles are not won in a night, or a week.” That made sense. She felt bad for leaving her siblings but she needed to get away, the war for the crown did not interest her.

“Have you spoken to him at all? Has he said anything?” It upset her that Gendry would not speak to her, but she understood. She did not know what he had been through. She only wished he would speak to her.

“Dear girl, he is in shock. He won’t speak. I am sorry.” Cutting of her reply came the most blood curdling scream which erupted from the abandoned house.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short story about what Gendry had gone through. there is some torture so just warning you.

Darkness. For what felt like years, he was kept in complete and total darkness. He had been thrown in a cold and damp cell. The smell of acidy vomit infected his nose, clogged up his lungs. The smell was so rancid he couldn’t breathe properly.

  
The kings’ guards had dragged him from the house that they had claimed sanctuary in. They had thrown him in the back of the trailer and locked him in. The ride to Storms End was a short one. The guards forced the horses to run as full speed for as long as they could. No-one spoke to him, not even when he begged them to tell him what crimes he had committed.

  
The door to his cell opened up. Bright light flooded in, blinding him. He raised a hand to face to allow his eyes time to adjust. When he could finally see, there was a figure stood in the doorway. A tall man with a sloped back and growing figure, a round stomach, hanging over the waistline of his pants. The man laughed at him.

  
“Stupid little boy.” The man, Gendry realised was young. Very young, probably only a few years older than Gendry.

  
“Who are you?” Asked Gendry. The man approached. Slowly, calculating every move that Gendry made. “I am Ramsay.” He stood directly in front on Gendry, the light front outside the cell caught the side of his face. He had twisted features, to match his twisted soul. Gendry had heard stories, how he tortured people into madness. He used a variety of techniques to manipulate anyone he wished. He had no conscience, no remorse. He committed unspeakable acts and didn’t even blink an eye, in fact he enjoyed it. He took pleasure in it. And Gendry would soon found that out.

  
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Stripped of his clothes, Gendry was chained up to a ceiling by his hands, metal cuffs cut into his wrists, blood from the wounds ran down his arms to his shoulders. His ribs ached from the blows that Ramsay had delivered. For hours he had endured extreme pain, so severe in fact that it made him black out numerous times, this made Ramsay angry. Like a child Ramsay grew increasingly more agitated, as if Gendry was a brand new toy, which kept breaking. He had been whipped, burnt and cut. From the amount of blood he had lost he was shocked that he had survived this long. Ramsay didn’t speak a word. He just looked at him with a hungry look in him eye.

  
The cold sting of Ramsays blade cut into the skin across his ribs, twisting the knife in deeper. The pain was too much for Gendry, and he soon blacked out yet again.

  
Unconscious, Gendry found peace. He felt no pain. He sat in the woods, next to a weirwood tree. He gazed upon it as it loomed over him. Blood red leaves flutter down around him like crimson butterflies. Sunset cast orange shadows upon the stark white bark. The face looked upon Gendry, tears streaming down, staining the bark.

  
“Praying to the gods, stupid?” A familiar voice called. Arya approached from behind. She sat down next to him on the tree stump. Her long brown hair cascaded down her back. She wore a long green gown. He laughed at the sight.

  
“I don’t pray, but I’m thinking maybe I should start.” He looked down at his hands. His wrists were healed. No scars, not even a scratch. 

  
“I need you to tell me where you are. I can’t find you. I’ve been to kings landing. All of the homes Tommen owns, nothing.”

  
“All I feel is pain, but when I’m here it’s so peaceful.” A calm breeze unsettled Arya’s hair, blowing it across her face. He reached out before she could and tucked it behind her ear.

  
“Gendry, think. Is there anything you can see?” Frown lines appeared between her brows. He traced a finger down them.

  
“I don’t want to think about it. There is no pain here. It’s so calm. There is no chaos.” Arya gripped his arms. She looked him dead in the eye.

  
“Tell me where you are.” Gendry looked down at his arms where she gripped him. His arms burned. His wrists burst opened, blood seeping out. His back opened as if an invisible whips struck his back. He cried out from the pain.

  
“Arya.” He looked up into Arya’s eyes. Beautiful grey stormy eyes slowly changed into harsh cold eyes. Her nose enlarged and features became harsher, uglier. Once beautiful Arya Stark sat beside him. Now stood Ramsay Snow. Sweat covered his forehead, heavy breathing filled the air. Ramsay lifted a knife to his throat.

  
“Nope, just us two.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit more about Gendrys time with the evil Ramsay Snow. Please be aware that there is torture.

“So you love the wolf bitch.” Ramsay stated as he slowly sliced the knife down the side of his neck. As the blood escaped so did Gendry’s cry of pain, he had endured many hours of this, Ramsay would repeat the same few statements, followed by a deep cut.

“No.” Gendry struggled to say. The blood loss was making him light headed.

“She loves you, or so I’m told.” This time he slide the knife down across his rib cage, pressing deeper into his skin.

“Stop.” Gendry replied weakly. “I don’t know what you want, I can’t give any information. So just let me go.” His eyes started to close, growing heavier, sleep enticed him and he so desperately needed it.

“Wake up, I’m not finished with you.” As Ramsay lifted the knife to slice down the side of his face, the door opened. Light flooded in, harsh light blinded him. His cheek stung as Ramsay slid the knife down yet again.

“Enough!” A voice boomed. Gendry opened his eyes to find the king stood in the door way. Ramsay placed the knife onto the table and slowly backed away from Gendry.

“Leave us.” Gendry sagged against the chains, relieved that the pain was over, even if it was for a brief moment. Ramsay left quietly, not before sending a glare towards the king, clearly upset with the interruption.

“Gendry Waters, how do you know Arya Stark?” Stupid wolf girl. How could one girl be this much trouble. Gendry didn’t know what to say, so he stayed quiet. He would protect Arya for as long as he could. Yes, he knew Arya could take care of herself but he would do what he could. For her.

“I could use someone with your skills. I heard that you were a good smith. Perhaps if you provided me with information about her, I shall allow you to live, here at Storms End,” So that’s where they were, stupid rich boy, “we take care of our own. Ramsay will stay away from you.”

“You can shove that deal up your arse. Arya is my friend. Do you really think that I’m going to sell her out to a pathetic little boy like you? You’re just playing house. You don’t know the first thing about ruling.” Fury covered the kings face, Gendry didn’t care. They could do whatever they want to him, he would not let them touch her.

“So be it. Ramsay!” Upon hearing his name, Gendry tensed up again. Slowly the madman approached, behind him a man, or a shell of a man. Behind his eyes he was dead, there was no life, or soul there.

Ramsay approached the table in front of Gendry, all of the instruments looked wicked and deadly. All of them covered in Gendry’s blood. He picked up a knife, looked at it disappointingly, and then dropped it back down onto the table. He walked to the other side of the other side of the room towards the fireplace. Dread ran through Gendry.

The man that had followed Ramsay in stared at Gendry, never once taking him eyes of him. Dead soulless eyes. He appeared to be at least 40 years old, hideous scars covered his face. White hair covered his head, he was a frail little man. The smell that erupted from him was foul, as if he had not bathed in years. However there was something about him. Maybe if Gendry stayed here any longer he will turn into that man.

Ramsay approached slowly, now a red hot poker in his hand. Joy erupted on his face. Fear exploded inside Gendry. He began to sweat, his breathing became laboured.

“You see this thing here,” he pointed the hot poker at the man, “this is Reek. He is my pet. He gets quite lonely, don’t you Reek?” Reek lowered his head.

“Yes, sir.” He mumbled quietly.

“This is going to be your new friend, Reek.” He pointed the hot poker back at Gendry. Slowly moving it towards his face, so close that he could feel the soaring, blazing heat. The tip of the poker touched his chest. He cried out. The smell of burning flesh filled the air. Gendry gagged. He screamed as Ramsay pushed the poker into his skin further.

“You love Arya Stark. Yes, or no.” He removed the poker from his chest and walked back to the fire place. Gendry sagged against the chains.

“No.” Ramsay turned from the fire to face Gendry, rage masked his features. He marched towards Gendry.

“You love Arya Stark.” Gendry laughed, a great big belly laugh. Of all the things he could ask about Arya, the Brotherhood Without Banners, even Jaqen, and yet he still asked the same question. He looked at Ramsay, a bastard like him, legitimised or not, and laughed in his face. Of course this didn’t make Ramsay happy. It made him furious. Gendry kept laughing. Even when he hit him in the face he still continued to laugh.

“You do love her, and I’m going to turn that love into hate. I will find every good thing you see in her and crush it. Then I’m going to crush you." Now it was Ramsay’s turn to smile. Arya was far from here he hoped. He wished for her to run back to Bravos.

But that was not Arya. That was not the girl he met all those year ago. She was strong headed and brave. Much braver than he. She fought with him, he wound her up. They worked together, something about them clicked. Their friendship was strong. He would not let this madman ruin that.

So he endured. Whatever pain was inflicted upon him. Whatever devilish act Ramsay committed. He focused on her. The way her long brown hair blew in the wind. The way she laughed when he teased her. When he tried to learn how to swordfight. All those good memories, they kept him alive. But in the end the pain took over.

After two weeks of torture, of endless pain. All the once good memories brought him pain, when he thought of Arya, he felt rage, and he was hurt that she had left him here. To be left with these animals.

All the previous joy he felt when he thought back to Arya now brought him even more pain. He finally admitted to himself that he loved Arya Stark, wild girl from Winterfell. And with that acceptance, hate grew.

He hated Arya Stark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think about this one, will try to get the next chapter soon, thanks for reading :)


	9. Chapter 9

Arya and Jaqen ran into the small house. Following the songs of screams they located Gendry in a small bedroom at the back of the house.

Gendry, fast asleep on the bed continued to scream. His hands curled in the sheets. His back arched of the bed. Pain etched across his features. Arya ran to him, shaking his arms gently, calling out his name. Jaqen on the other side of the bed held a damp towel to his forehead.

"Gendry, can you hear me, please wake up." Arya continued to shake him, with each passing second her shaking became increasingly frantic.

"Why cant he hear us? Why wont he wake up?" Gendry's screaming were increasing in volume, his hands now clutching his stomach. As if feeling a ghostly knife cut into his flesh.

"Stop!" Gendry cried out. Tears and sweat left tracks as they rolled down his face.

"Gendry, I want you to open your eyes, please." Jaqen commanded in a calm manner. His tone the complete opposite to Arya's frantic one. Gendry's eyes flickered open for a brief moment before closing tightly again.

"Its like hes stuck in the nightmare, how do we get him out?" Jaqen shook his head in reply.

"Keep talking to him, try to separate him from the dream into reality, gently though Arya, lets not scare him anymore than he already is." Arya looked down at Gendry. He looked terrified.

"Gendry, listen to me, I need you to open your eyes. Okay? Please, just open them." Gendry stayed still. Arya looked up to Jaqen for instruction.

"Keep trying." Jaqen urged. Arya leaned in closer to Gendry, placing her lips next to his ear, whispering quietly so that Jaqen couldn't hear.

"Gendry, I need you. You are not there, you are here with me and Jaqen. Picture the forest, just you and me, alone with the weirwood tree. Red leaves scattered across the grass. Focus on the orange sky. The sun dipping lower and lower. Please come back to me. I cant do this without you."

Arya's words seemed to break through the nightmare. Gendry calmed, her words soothing him. With a sigh of relief, she rested her head on the pillow next to his, suddenly exhausted.

"Well done." She lifted her head slightly, shocked by his praise. Jaqen kept his eyes on Gendry as he pressed the damp towel to Gendry's forehead. His eyes now open.

"Hey, bull boy." He turned and looked at her, his expression blank.

"What happened?" Jaqen removed the towel and placed it on the side table.

"Nightmares, you were screaming." Jaqen answered quietly, as it he was afraid to startle him. Gendry turned and focused his gaze onto Arya, rage morphed his features.

"Its your fault. You left me there. You left me there to die. With him."

"No, I tried to get you. As soon as they took you I tried to get you back. I followed you for two weeks. I had to make a bargain with the king! Do you know how hard that was for me?" Arya slid of the bed, hurt from his words.

"I will never forgive you for this. I hate you. You have no idea what happened to me while I was there. You have no idea what HE did to me. All because of you. All he wanted was you! All we talked about was YOU!" Sweat broke out across his forehead. His face was flushed. Breathing labored.

"Have you check his wounds yet?" She turned and asked Jaqen. A look passed between them, perhaps one of Gendrys wounds were infected, causing him to act this way.

"Not yet, ill go get the supplies." Jaqen turned silently and left the room.

Arya walked back over to Gendry, placing her hand across his forehead. His skin was damp and hot to the touch. Gendry shook his head violently, causing her to drop her hand.

"Just go." He spat. Turning his head away from her. As if the sight of her disgusted him.

"I am not leaving. I think you have an infection. Its causing you to have nightmares, you're feverish. I need to check your wounds." Arya leaned forward, moving to pull up his shirt, however before she could touch the cloth that bound his wounds, Gendry's hand slip up around her throat.

"I said leave." Gendry breathed out each word carefully. Slowly his hand tightened around her slender throat.

Arya struggled against Gendry's vice like hand. She clawed at his arm, trying to pull away from him. She could not scream or shout not even whisper a single word. Arya's lungs burned, she felt detached from her body, her movements were delayed. She looked into Gendry's eyes, his perfect blue eyes. Eyes that once held love, joy and laughter, now held burning rage and disgust.

A shout echoed down the hall, and with that Jaqen rushed into the room, trying to pry Arya from Gendry's clutches.

"Gendry, let her go." Jaqen ordered. However Gendry made no attempt to release her.

Arya's vision blurred and faded. Her lungs screaming at her, tears streaming down her face. Arya faded. She could no longer hear, or see. Slowly every faded to black.


End file.
